--Practicing Beginner’s Mind, which means opening your thoughts and perceptions and seeing students, lessons, resources, and your own teaching practice as if for the first time--the same way beginning students will see it.--Remembering that Breathing is the Life Force that will focus your energy, clarify your thinking, and calm the white noise and chaos around you.

--Allowing Meditation and Reflection to still your mind and create peace within you.

--Embracing Compassion and Empathy in order to connect with (and learn to love and care about) your students, your colleagues, your subject, and yourself.

--Immersing yourself in Detachment, which allows you to disconnect your expectations from any particular or anticipated outcome.This moment is exactly as it should be.

--Enjoying Present Moment Awareness by pausing to participate in your life at any given moment and experience it fully or, as Ram Dass says to “Be Here Now.”

--Experiencing Mindfulness as a technique that allows you to experience The Now—whether it’s teaching a lesson, walking the dog, or putting on your shoes.Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is a wish. There is only now.

--Insisting on Space by decluttering your classroom, your home, and your mind.Too much “stuff” can be suffocating and then the breath – the Life Force – is compromised.

“The goal is the path.” -- Zen saying In teaching, there is no corporate ladder. Unless you decide to pursue a career in administration, you enter the classroom at twenty-four and leave at sixty-three exactly where you started. After it was clear that having a family took more money, I earned my Master’s in Educational Administration, but soon realized my heart wasn’t in it and ultimately, decided against it. Teaching was my passion. So when I retire, it will be in exactly the place I started, probably even in the same classroom. That’s one of the Zen moments of MY teaching. In our profession, then, the movement is not up, but out. Our influence in the world has a ripple effect, like concentric circles on the surface of a lake. The students we encounter go into the world and are changed by the experiences they have with us. We leave a footprint and, thanks to our students, that footprint gets passed onto the future. And while it’s hard to pay your mortgage with a metaphorical footprint, that’s a pretty awesome way to spend your career and, as Steve Jobs used to say, “make a dent in the universe.”Teaching may not provide a string of brass rings that we grab along the way—the big paycheck, the luxury car, the corner office with the stunning view—but there is a Zen tranquility in knowing that the ripples we make influence (and often improve) the future. That’s not just a goal, but a certainty. We all know teachers who are not passionate about the job, who do it for the paycheck, and for whom teaching is not a “calling.” Those teachers can still do good work, and yet I mourn their lack of passion that would help make their experience transcendent. Generally speaking, however, teachers do some of the most important and influential work I can think of. But if the goal is the path, then as teachers, it helps to love the path. TZT

When I started my Twitter account for The Zen Teacher I had four followers by the end of the day--two of whom were colleagues at my own school. Not exactly the circulation of The New York Times, but it was a start.

Yet I found myself intimidated by all the other teachers—some of whom I knew personally—who had hundreds, if not thousands of followers. Similarly, a successful comedian, who I went to high school with, has nearly seven hundred thousand Twitter followers. Nearly three quarters of a million people (!) hear his random musings the nano-second he presses the "Tweet" button. “How do they DO it?” I wondered. "What does it TAKE?" The answer? They do it slowly. Over time.

Financial expert Dave Ramsey often refers to “death by a thousand cuts,” but I prefer marketing whiz Seth Godin’s more whimsical, and moister, metaphor: “Drip. Drip. Drip.” The key, he says, is to lay down the drips as you go. In other words, slather that mortar when and where you can, but build the wall one brick at a time. Not only will your wall be built, but the foundation will be stronger if you haven’t rushed it in your haste and enthusiasm. Remember this the next time you want to implement the ENTIRE vocabulary program by Thanksgiving or attend EVERY technology-in-the-classroom inservice offered at your district. Teachers are passionate; it can be painful to wait. But even if you want to be the best teacher in the world, you must start with one step. Then another. Be patient and present in the moment and, as those moments knit together, you'll get there.After four days, I had over 20 Twitter followers, some of whom I did not even know personally. Random people who seem to like what I have to say. That’s a win, folks. Rome wasn’t built in a day, although I suspect that had something to do with The Teamsters and Organized Crime.

But my point is: I’ll get there. Eventually. So will you. One step at a time. Drip by Drip. TZT

Or the 7 Keys to Enlightenment. Or the 7 Keys to Getting a Date with Angelina Jolie.It's about 7 literal keys. The kind of keys that open stuff.One day at school I saw a custodian open a door using such a ginormous key ring that the keys alone were made up of more metal than the dental grill of the most gangster-y rapper alive. Each of those keys, I thought, were symbolic of something over which this man was responsible. “Look at all those keys,” I mused to myself. “Clearly, this man is important!” But then I paused and realized that each of those keys was indeed a symbol—of a commitment, of an obligation, of a responsibility that maybe kept him from the things in his life that he loved.

And then when I looked at his key ring, I just felt tired. It took awhile before this became a conscious thought in my thick-skulled head, but eventually it was clear: the fewer keys I owned, the fewer unnecessary obligations and responsibilities I would have. And that sounded pretty good.So right now I have—you guessed it—seven keys: 2 keys to my house. 1 key to my car.

1 key to the mailbox. 1 key to my classroom. 1 key to a cupboard in my classroom.

and 1 key, uh, well. . .I’m not really sure what it’s for, but I’m sure it’s for something important. That key reminds me that you can never know for sure what will happen in life. House. Car. Classroom. Mail. It’s my goal to never need access to more than that.Hey, now that I think about it, maybe this IS a post about the key to happiness, after all. TZT

1) Deal with it immediately. If you need it and can use it right away, use it right now and then put it where it belongs.

2) Delegate it. If someone else needs it, give it to him/her.

3) Trash it. If you need it, keep it. The minutes from that meeting in 2003 can go. No. Seriously. No, really. I'm NOT kidding. You don't need them. I promise. Keeping such things is where clutter and distraction begin.

When you can, choose #1 or #2.

But everyone, I think, would benefit from practicing #3.

Don't be afraid to get rid of it.

If you find out later that you needed it, I'll get you another one. TZT

I used to eat whatever I could get my hands on. In addition to my three squares a day, I snacked constantly--potato chips, trail mix, M&Ms, whatever was on the counter, on the cupboard shelf, or in the fridge. Most nights I would end with my all time favorite treat, hot buttered popcorn. I ate constantly, never really considering, never thinking about what I was doing. When I decided I needed to lose weight, I knew diets wouldn’t work. To me, the only thing worse than feeling overweight was feeling deprived. So I came up with a new solution: Mindfulness. I started paying attention. Being present during my eating binges. It was never about eating fewer calories, but rather noticing which calories I was consuming, and consciously deciding, is this where I want my calories to come from? Should I wait until later? Eat something else altogether? Just say no? Did I want this AND the popcorn later? Suddenly that extra handful of M&Ms didn’t seem so important.In time, I also started a Zen-inspired walking regimen. In a matter of months, I lost nearly twenty pounds. The mindfulness approach is not just about food, but about life. You can be present in your own life during any moment, any activity, any discipline.Why not be just as mindful, then, about your upcoming lesson? Are you doing it without conscious thought because you’ve done it a million times before? Or is it time to stop and ponder: Is that the best way to present Romeo and Juliet? The Pythagorean Theorem? The Magna Carta? The Zen Teacher doesn’t stop at asking why am I eating this hot fudge sundae?

For fifteen years, I taught next door to a man who was ahead of his time. In meetings, he disagreed with administration, made remarks that pushed the bounds of the appropriate, and spouted off about the futility of whatever dog and pony show was coming to to town. Often his outbursts had the rest of the staff laughing into their sleeves, even as they were forced to recognize the quality of his teaching. His knowledge of the subject matter was impeccable. His students loved him. His English students were consistently successful on AP tests. And yet, he was regularly outspoken about the bureaucracy and hypocrisy of modern American education. Once he even declined a $700 stipend for participating in a program simply because he was against it in principle. The stipend contract was circulated among the teachers at our meeting and when the paper came to him, I watched in awe as he simply passed it on.For me, that was an object lesson in integrity.I remember watching him going through his file cabinets one year and throwing away a truckload of files he never used. He had no patience for keeping files around “just in case.” Next, he showed me how he had whittled down his resources to a single drawer in a file cabinet and then, later, to only a handful of folders.“There are really only eight assignments worth anything, anyway,” he used to say. “Everything else is crap.” I chuckled with him, but felt an uneasiness that, in retrospect, I recognized as me realizing that he was probably right, and I either had to laugh it away with him or change everything I was doing as a teacher. While I often relied on the certainty of foolproof activities and assignments, he rewrote his curriculum every year. That was ten years ago.But I still remember the day he showed me those handful of files. At the time, I thought he was joking.Now I think he was a visionary. TZT

Last week I read Walter Issacson’s biography of Steve Jobs, and I was fascinated by how the Apple founder’s long-standing interest in Zen Buddhism led to his obsession with the zen-like simplicity we’re all so familiar with in his Apple products--a simplicity that we, as consumers, now often take for granted. Issacson says that much of Jobs’ imagination and energy was spent not adding stuff to his products, but removing stuff, stuff like buttons and features, which not only gave his products their iconic sleek and simple designs, but made us fall in love with them. He saw computer design, Issacson argues, as a balance between technology and art.

I see Zen Teaching the same way. Making a difference in the classroom not only takes technology, whether we're talking about a laptop or a dry erase marker, but takes an intuition, creativity, and sense of artistry. So next week, when our staff is called back to the trenches, I’m going to re-enter my classroom with a new perspective. One of reduction. Streamlining. Simplicity. I’m going to start with my desk. And then the counter by the window. And then my office. I plan to remove every button and feature that’s not absolutely necessary. Eliminate distractions.

Less emphasis on the technology, more on the art.

My plan is to make my classroom as sleek, intuitive, and user-friendly as an iPad.It’s time to Think Different. TZT

Marketing genius Seth Godin says that we either work in the factory or the lab. The lab, he says, is always searching for a new way to do things and is always on the lookout for The Breakthrough. The lab, he goes on to say, must understand that not everything will work on the way to success. The factory, on the other hand, favors (and rewards) reliability and productivity. It wants to do what it did yesterday, faster and cheaper.Godin is talking about business. But here's my question to you: In which classroom does your student typically find him or herself. I'm guessing the factory. This is, thanks in large part to the spectre of standardized testing, how most classrooms are run and are even the types of classrooms my own children find themselves in.Reliability and productivity are important, but I now believe that you reach a higher level of both if you are willing to try new things--if you are willing to risk. . .and fail.After hearing Godin's thoughts, I'm making a conscious effort to change the vibe in the educational experiences I provide as a classroom teacher. My new, more mindful, plan for the fall?

Controversial comedian Bill Hicks used to do a bit about the difference between slick, manufactured boy bands and actual rock stars. Bill's point was that real rock stars--and ANY real artists, for that matter--play from their hearts and use passion, guts, and genuine emotion to connect with their audience as opposed to pushing prepackaged, soulless "music" (designed mostly to sell other stuff) on unsuspecting fans.

One Direction, anyone?

I agree with Bill's premise. Sure, those that choose that road might be a little rough around the edges, but they have a much higher chance of actually touching or moving their audience instead of trying to sell the audience on something that while distracting and marginally entertaining is, ultimately, without substance.

Being a Zen Teacher is like this. I'd rather dig deep inside myself and teach with passion, guts, and emotion even if the lesson doesn't go perfectly, than give my students a soulless, prepackaged lesson that comes from some book or educational expert, but touches no one. Passion is at the core of The Zen Teacher.

To remind myself to be genuine and authentic in the classroom and to teach my students with real emotion, I put a sign on my classroom wall where I can see it when I teach.

It says simply, “Play From Your Heart.” --Bill Hicks.

I left a space on the sign between the words “Your” and “Heart” because in his act Bill uses a word I don't want my students to see.

Before I was a teacher, I worked in various offices. At the end of the day, while lying in my bed, my question was always the same: What have I accomplished today?

Sure, I typed one more letter. I answered one more phone call. I made one more widget. But the best I could say every day is that, each and every day, I was making my bosses richer.

Big deal.Teaching is hard. The classes are huge, the salary makes it difficult to make ends meet, the support from above is negligible, money is always tight, supplies are often hard to come by, and my audience, though captive, is often resistant to what I have to give.But from the first day I left my cubicle in Corporate America and went back into a classroom, I knew I was making a difference. Helping. Creating a ripple effect that would last into successive generations. As the cliché goes, I knew I was “touching the future.”

Bigger deal.

So even though I headed to bed much later and was more exhausted, the answer to the question, "What have I accomplished today?" made me much happier. By then, I knew that teaching was not just a job, but my calling; it was a spiritual pursuit. Knowing this allowed me to sleep easier. I was helping kids, contributing to society, preparing students for their lives. And what's more important than that?

Teachers are overwhelmed these days by huge classes, lacks of funds, misguided administrators, top-down management, and all kinds of circuses that have come to town (think: PLCs, Common Core, and the like) that distract us from our sacred mission. But we have no control over that. Those are the things we must let go.

What we do have control over, though, is how we think, how we react, and what we choose to do in the classroom. It is imperative that we refocus on a more simple approach to our teaching methods and work toward a more minimalist approach to learning. As the state, district, and politicians pile on to what a teacher is expected to do, The Zen Teacher doesn't continue to add on, but reduces, simplifies, streamlines, focuses, subtracts. Using a laser-focused minimalism, The Zen Teacher reduces teaching and learning to its essence. In short, The Zen Teacher is mindful of what happens in the classroom.Watching the light go on in the head of a student who has been struggling with a concept and finally “gets” it is not only my favorite part of the job, it’s one of my favorite moments in life. The Zen Teacher not only focuses on that illumination as the desired (even expected) outcome, but eliminates anything that distracts from that result.

Teaching is one of the most important pursuits on the face of the planet. I'm grateful and lucky to have been doing it for over two decades. I'm also lucky to have discovered this approach, lucky to consider myself a Zen Teacher.